"Ad-Visor! Do you expect me to blight my budding career by a
poisonous pun like that?" demanded Average Jones with a wry face.

"It may be a poisonous pun, but it's an arresting catch-word," said
Waldemar, unmoved. "Single column, about fifty lines will do it in
nice, open style. Caps and lower case, and black-faced type for the
name and title. Insert twice a week in every New York and Brooklyn
paper."

"Isn't it--er--a little blatant?" suggested Bertram, with lifted
eyebrows.

"Blatant?" repeated its inventor. "It's more than that. It's
howlingly vulgar. It's a riot of glaring yellow. How else would
you expect to catch the public?"

"Suppose, then, I do burst into flame to this effect?" queried the
prospective "Ad-Visor." "Et apres? as we proudly say after spending
a week in Paris."

"Apres? Oh, plenty of things. You hire an office, a clerk, two
stenographers and a clipping export, and prepare to take care of the
work that comes in. You'll be flooded," promised Waldemar.

"And between times I'm to go skipping about, chasing long white
whiskers and brass howitzers and B-flat trombones, I suppose."

"Until you get your work systematized you'll have no time for
skipping. Within six months, if you're not sandbagged or jailed on
fake libel suits, you'll have a unique bibliography of swindles.